


Save Me From Myself

by HarpforHim



Series: From Kenobi’s Point of View [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Brotherly Bonding, But Obi-Wan still trained Anakin, Everything is basically the same except Qui-Gon is there, Feels, Gen, Nightmares, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, PTSD, Planet Zygerria (Star Wars), Post-Zygerria Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), Protective Anakin Skywalker, Protective Qui-Gon Jinn, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Qui-Gon fixes everything, Qui-Gon never died, Slavery, That’s Not How the Force Works, Zygerria, Zygerria Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), some things never change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26499688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpforHim/pseuds/HarpforHim
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn survived Naboo and is now actively fighting alongside Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka in the Clone Wars. When he returns from a military campaign on Felucia, he is shocked to discover that his Padawans have gone undercover on a mission to infiltrate the Zygerrian Slave Empire. As they return to Coruscant, Qui-Gon is left to pick up the pieces of a mission gone wrong.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Mace Windu, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: From Kenobi’s Point of View [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021438
Comments: 49
Kudos: 275





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Christina Aguilera’s song of the same name. Go listen to it—it’s so good!

The official military base of the GAR was buzzing with activity, though not the usual to and fro of planetary battle campaigns. No, something was different,  _ off _ , and General Jinn sensed it the moment he set foot out of the gunship.

“Uh, General?” His clone commander began, joining him where he stood in the middle of the chaos.

“You’re guess is as good as mine, Quin,” Qui-Gon replied, arms crossed as he scanned the massive docking bay for a familiar face. Well, they were mostly  _ all _ familiar faces, but he was looking for a Jedi General or a member of the Council in particular, not a trooper.

“Hey,” he heard Quin bark at some private dashing past them, “what’s going on here?”

The private, who Qui-Gon recognized by the color of his armor to be one of Plo’s Boys, slowed his run long enough to offer a brief explanation. “Backup mission, sir.”

“Back-up? On what campaign?” Quin demanded to know and Qui-Gon admired his second-in-command’s persistence.

“General Skywalker’s requested reinforcements on Kadavo.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into a cluster of clones stocking a nearby medical craft.

_ A medical ship. _ Qui-Gon’s heart skipped a beat. Was Anakin in danger? And Ahsoka, what about her? Was she safe? Was she in trouble?

While this war had prepared him for the constant possibility of death, the loss of his dear Great Grand-Padawan was something he wasn’t yet prepared to handle.

And where was Obi-Wan in all this?

His feet were moving before his mind could decide where they were headed. He needed to find Plo Koon; to find out what in the stars was going on. Qui-Gon found the Jedi Master preparing to board the main gunship docked further down the hangar floor.

“Qui-Gon,” Plo greeted him cordially, but the general found his smile lacking. “Back so soon from Felucia?”

“The Separatist threat on that planet was a joke,” Qui-Gon replied. “It didn’t take long to wipe out their forces there. It looks as if your troops are anxious to be somewhere.”

The Kel Dor Master’s expression changed, clearly warning Qui-Gon not just to conclusions.

“Anakin and Ahsoka need backup. My troops and I are preparing an assault on the Kadavo System.”

“Isn’t that in Wild Space?”

Plo Koon nodded, breaking off the conversation for a moment to instruct several troopers.

“And refresh my memory, if you will,” Qui-Gon continued, his tone the essence of passive-aggressive, “isn’t that system under the control of the Zygerrian Slave Empire?”

“That is correct, my friend.”

“Then why, I wonder, are my Padawans requesting reinforcements from such a seemingly awful place? I don’t recall any Separatist forces stationed so far out of the reaches of the Republic.”

An alarm blared, cutting off any reply the other general was about to offer. It was the signal for all ships to begin their ascent into the waiting flagship above.

“I’m sorry, Qui-Gon, I have to go.”

“But why—?”

“I’m afraid this is a matter you’ll have to take up with the Council.” And without another word, General Plo Koon stepped into the gunship, saluting Qui-Gon before the doors closed.

“Oh, believe me,” Qui-Gon muttered as the ship’s engines fired up, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, “I will.”

~*~*~*~ 

“When were you thinking would be the best time to tell me?” Qui-Gon began, fixing his hardest glare on Mace Windu, who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but standing with his old friend. “Before or after they were captured?”

“The situation is still unclear,” Mace replied, voice laced with caution.

“Then make it clear, Mace. Make it clear to me  _ why _ the Council thought it would be a good idea to send them on such a dangerous undercover mission? We have plenty of Shadows who would have been up to the task!”

“Listen, Qui, it didn’t begin as an undercover mission. The main objective was to free the colonists of Kiros from Dooku and the Separatists. Things apparently got out of hand and—”

“I’ll say they did!”

“ _ And _ both Skywalker and Kenobi made the conscious decision to move ahead with the mission. The Council was not included in the final say, we were only there as a guide.”

_ Those idiots… _ Of course Anakin would be the first one involved with anything involving the liberation of slaves, a worrying thought to say the least.  _ And Obi-Wan would be right behind him _ .

“And don’t forget,” Mace continued, “Obi-Wan is  _ on _ the Council.”

_ Right _ . He supposed that was something he would never get used to.

Qui-Gon heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right. Just tell me what the damage is.”

Here, Mace hesitated. “No one knows yet.”

“You mean to say you haven’t kept in contact with them?”

“We lost contact about a week ago,” the stoic Jedi Master confessed.

Qui-Gon’s expression was livid. “A  _ week _ ? And you didn’t think to send out reinforcements? You had to wait until Anakin asked for them  _ specifically? _ ”

“That  _ is _ usually how it goes, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“Yes, I am well aware!” Qui-Gon snapped. “What I want to know is why in the Seven Hells of Corellia did you  _ let them do it _ ? You know they aren’t trained for this sort of mission! Especially not Ahsoka!”

“I told you, the Council wasn’t included in the final decision, and everything that occurred after we lost contact was up to them. It was their choice, Qui-Gon.”

_ Obi-Wan should’ve known better.  _ Anakin he could trust to avenge his emotions at any given moment, but Obi-Wan…

_ He should’ve known better. _

_ Or perhaps he did. _ Perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing; knew the consequences of continuing the mission.

_ And the consequences of giving up. _

Qui-again shuddered to think of all those colonists being held at the mercy of some of the worst slavers in the galaxy.

_ Bring them home soon, Plo, _ he pleaded as he felt a hand brush lightly against his shoulder.

“They’re going to be all right, Qui-Gon. Plo Koon will bring them home safely, and then you can scold them till your heart’s content.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” Qui-Gon replied, but his feeble attempt at humor fell short in the wake of the situation. His mind was racing, running through each possible scenario; every way they could possibly be killed, or worse.

_ “Anakin and Ahsoka need backup.” _

Plo’s words echoed over and over again through his mind. There was something wrong with the statement, yet he couldn’t seem to figure it out.

_ “Anakin and Ahsoka need backup.” _

_ “Anakin and Ahsoka need backup.” _

_ “Anakin and Ahsoka…” _

Qui-Gon’s breath hitched and he suddenly found the air in the room lacking.

_ Anakin and Ahsoka… _

_ … Where’s Obi-Wan? _

~*~*~*~

It took every ounce of whatever self-control he still possessed  _ not _ to rush over and bombard the trio with questions and concern at the get-go. So, for the time being, he had to force himself to watch from a distance. The hangar bay was still buzzing, but this time, the activity felt normal once again.

It was for this reason that the three disembarking Jedi seemed so terribly out of place. They looked awful, Qui-Gon observed. Weary, scarred, and abused.

And just the sight of it was making him physically ill.

He watched as Anakin said something to Captain Rex, who departed the bay at a rather slow pace, Kix hovering beside him--a bit too close for comfort, it seemed.

Shortly after this exchange, Anakin turned to Ahsoka and Qui-Gon noticed Commander Cody tug Obi-Wan slightly off to the side, beginning what appeared to be a heated exchange.

Qui-Gon decided now was as good a time as any for him to insert himself into the situation. By the time he got within ten feet of the ragged group, Anakin had joined the shouting match, taking Cody’s side as Ahsoka watched from the sidelines, worry etching deep lines on her youthful face.

“Yeah?” Anakin was saying when Qui-Gon finally came within earshot. “And when exactly do you plan to do that, huh?”

“When it’s too late again, no doubt,” Cody added, his tone sullen.

Qui-Gon watched his former Padawan sigh, a shaky motion that seemed far too painful for his liking. He picked up his pace.

“The mission debrief is top priority. After Anakin and I finish with the Council, I will…”

Though slight and barely noticeable, Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan sway on his feet.

“You’ll what?” Anakin pressed, crossing his arms across his chest, his skepticism practically bleeding off his tall frame. “You can’t even say it, can you?”

“Anakin…”

“ _ Obi-Wan. _ ”

“Master Qui-Gon!” Ahsoka’s hopeful voice sliced through the gathering tension, alerting them all of Qui-Gon’s presence. Then, without warning, she flung herself into his arms and hugged him with all her might.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement. While the four Jedi had an unusually close relationship with each other--far surpassing that of any other lineage in the Temple--the young Padawan had never been one to show affection so openly, taking a page out of Obi-Wan’s book instead of that of her own Master’s.

It only seemed fitting to hug her back, and as he did so, Qui-Gon could feel the hurt and anxiety clouding her Force presence. He held her tighter.

Clearing his throat, he glanced at Anakin and Obi-Wan, scanning for signs of the same worrying emotions in them, but finding nothing. “Welcome back. I heard you all went on your first undercover mission.” Try as he might, he couldn’t quite keep the accusatory tones out of his voice.

Obi-Wan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “How soon he forgets that the Jedi are no strangers to going undercover.”

“Yeah,” Anakin continued, “what about all those times Obi-Wan and I went undercover when I was a Padawan?”

“And the missions you and I went on before that,” Obi-Wan added, his smile morphing into a smirk.

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I meant your first against the Separatists.”

Anakin clenched a fist. “The Zygerrians aren’t your typically Separatists.”

“It wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle,” Obi-Wan offered, earning a stoney glare from his commander.

“Yeah,” Anakin replied, “because you’re handling it  _ so _ well right now.”

“Anakin…”

“ _ Obi-Wan. _ ”

“Enough!” Qui-Gon shouted, hating the way Ahsoka flinched in his arms.

Silence, the tension thickening again as the two generals refused to make eye contact with him.

_ What has happened here? _ He wondered, taking in their appearance with a critical eye. There were faint scorch marks on Anakin’s wrists and neck, and Obi-Wan looked as though someone had repeatedly run him over with a tank full of droids. Yet, these scars and bruises didn’t look like the work of a Separatist or even a Sith Lord…  _ Who did this to them? _

The heavy silence was broken by Obi-Wan clearing his throat. “Well, I’m afraid Anakin and I are needed in the Council Chambers.”

“But you promised when we got back you’d—”

“They’re  _ waiting _ , Anakin.”

A silent conversation, one Qui-Gon didn’t have time to decipher, passed quickly between the former Master and Apprentice before Anakin finally gave in.

“Fine. But as soon as we’re done—”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replied a bit too hastily.

“General, are you sure you’ll be—”

Again, Obi-Wan interrupted. “Don’t worry about me, Cody. Come on, Anakin.”

As the two began their trek to the Council spire, Qui-Gon briefly met Obi-Wan’s gaze before his Padawan averted his eyes once more.

A shiver ran down his spine. Obi-Wan was purposefully hiding something from him.  _ But what? And why? _

He felt Ahsoka pull away from him, a pained expression marring her face.

“Ahsoka,” he breathed, glancing back at the retreating Jedi, “what happened?”

The Togruta took a shaky breath. “It was bad, Master Jinn.”

Anxiety gripped his chest.

“Master Plo says we never should have been there, but…”

Qui-Gon shifted his gaze back to the troubled Padawan. “But what, young one?”

“But… I can’t help but wonder what could’ve happened if we  _ hadn’t  _ been there. The colonists—my  _ people _ —would still be slaves. I don’t regret what we did… I just hope that,”—Here, her blue eyes misted over—“that my people will be able to recover from this. That Master Obi-Wan will be able to recover, too. And Rex. And Anakin.”

“And what about you, Ahsoka?”

Genuine confusion shone off her face. “Me, Master?”

“Will you be able to recover?”

Silence.

“Are  _ you _ all right?”

She looked to the floor. “I just wanted to help them, but I don’t know how.”

“Who?” Qui-Gon probed.

“Obi-Wan. Anakin. Rex. They all suffered so much. I… I’m worried about them.”

“As am I,” he replied solemnly.

“Will you…” She sniffled slightly, trying to keep what Qui-Gon guessed to be days of unshed tears at bay. “Can you help them?”

At this, he slipped her tiny hand into his large, gentle one. “I will certainly try.”

_ Even if it takes me to my last breath, I’ll get to the bottom of this,  _ he vowed, his mind reaching out to his former Padawan, only to find that his mental shields were firmly in place.  _ Of course _ .

He slid an arm around Ahsoka. “I promise. They will be all right.”

As they walked out of the hangar together, Qui-Gon hoped this was a promise he would be able to keep.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon gets to the bottom of things and kind of wishes he hadn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have commented so far! Your support and encouragement means the world to me!

He was waiting for them the minute they stepped out of the Council Chamber. Anakin’s fury hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest and Qui-Gon knew immediately that he would have his work cut out for him.

“Honestly, Anakin, I wish you would settle down,” Obi-Wan said, his voice more weary than Qui-Gon had ever heard it before.

“You could have at least told them everything instead of dancing around the subject like you always do!” Anakin shot back.

Obi-Wan was irritated now. “And what good would _that_ have done, hmm?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they could have, oh, I don’t know, gotten you some _help_?”

“I don’t need any help, Anakin. And I told the Council all they needed to know about the mission.”

“Right,” Anakin replied, rolling his eyes, “and I'm the Galaxy’s Greatest Politician. Nice try, Obi-Wan, but I’m not falling for it. You might’ve been able to fool everyone else in that room, but not me. Not this time.”

A light cough was enough to startle them to attention.

“Qui-Gon!” Anakin exclaimed, a touch of relief in his voice. “Could you tell this idiot to let me take him to the Halls of Healing? Better yet, drag him there yourself?”

“I don’t need a healer, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I just need some rest.”

“Hah! So you admit it!”

“Anakin—”

“ _Obi-Wan_.” This time, it was Qui-Gon who said his name, stopping his Padawan in his tracks. “Now, do either of you care to explain to me what’s going on here?”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Obi-Wan said curtly, “it’s all in the mission report.”

“Uh, no, it’s not,” Anakin cut in, earning a lethal look from Obi-Wan.

“I’m sure Anakin can fill you in on anything I missed. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Qui-Gon didn’t mean to grab his arm so forcefully, so suddenly, but he was driven by a sinking feeling that the situation was slipping through his fingers. So he acted on impulse in a vain attempt to get to the bottom of it all.

Nothing could have prepared for Obi-Wan’s reaction.

A flash of anxiety lit up the Force before fading away almost as quickly as it had appeared. Nanoseconds later, Obi-Wan shuddered violently and jerked away, wrenching his arm out from Qui-Gon’s grasp.

And then Qui-Gon met his gaze, though only for the briefest of moments. He would never forget the sight of the pure, unadulterated fear that flashed across his blue orbs.

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin’s voice had gone down to a near whisper.

The Jedi in question, for his part, looked utterly shocked and embarrassed.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon said softly, taking on the tone he’d use to calm a frightened Youngling.

“I… I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sounding almost breathless. “I need to go.”

He broke into a jog and was halfway down the hall before Qui-Gon could even think to follow.

How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? He’d returned from Felucia expecting a nice few days during which he might relax and spend some rare time with his lineage. Instead, he was caught in the middle of a mission gone wrong, trying to keep himself and his friends afloat in the aftermath of a bad decision.

 _Oh, Obi-Wan,_ he mourned as he watched his Padawan disappear around a corner, _what have they done to you?_

“He won’t talk to me.” Anakin’s whisper shattered his thoughts and he turned towards the boy. “Ever since we rescued him from…” He gulped. “From that horrible place… Besides asking if the colonists were all right and avoiding Governor Roshti like the Blue Shadow Virus, he won’t say a word about what happened.”

Exasperated, Qui-Gon turned. “What _did_ happen, Anakin?”

The young Knight shrugged. “Rex told me a little bit about it, he was there too, but the rest I can only guess.”

Qui-Gon crossed his arms, trying to keep his worry from boiling over. “First of all, are you all right?”

Another shrug. “I’ll be fine.”

Qui-Gon fixed him with a pointed look.

“Really!” Then, a sigh and Anakin glanced down at the floor. “Well… I’d be better if he’d only let me in—if he’d let me help him. He’s so stubborn.”

_Says the pot to the kettle._

“All right. Second:”—Qui-Gon took a breath—“what _happened?_ ”

Anakin massaged the back of his neck, an evasive motion Qui-Gon had come to expect whenever his Grand-Padawan didn’t want to talk about something.

“It was… just a mission. We freed the slaves, stopped the Separatists from taking over Kiros, and saved the day.”

Another look, softer this time. “Anakin, you and I both know anything that involves slavery isn’t ‘just a mission’ for you.”

“What do you want me to say? That I wish we could’ve destroyed the entire Zygerrian Empire? That we should’ve stopped Dooku before he ever set foot on my Padawan’s home planet in the first place? That I was too late to rescue Obi-Wan when he—” Anakin paused his tirade when his voice cracked. “When he needed me… Master Qui-Gon, I… I let him down. I should’ve been quicker. He was already pretty beat up from his fight with D’Nar… I never should’ve let him come along.”

Qui-Gon briefly wondered how one-sided said fight was before sighing and placing a comforting hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You know he would have gone anyway.”

“Yeah… But that still doesn’t account for the fact that he and Rex were forced into slavery because I messed it all up. _Me!_ ”

 _Ah,_ Qui-Gon thought, his stomach churning at the news, _so that’s it, then._

“I thought I had it all under control. You know,” Anakin went on, shifting his rapidly blinking eyes towards the ceiling, “for so many years, I wanted—no, _needed_ —Obi-Wan to understand me; to truly understand what it felt like to have someone you hate hold your life and the lives of everyone you love in their cold hands. And now that it’s finally happened… _Force_ , I never should’ve wished for something so incredibly stupid!”`

As if to emphasize his point, Anakin smacked himself on the forehead. Qui-Gon held back a wince.

“And now that it’s happened…” Anakin continued after a moment, “I want nothing more than to turn back time. I’ve never seen him so broken and it’s… it’s…”

He trailed off, swallowing hard.

 _And it’s breaking you,_ Qui-Gon finished silently. _Oh, Anakin._

He felt a sudden rage at the Council for allowing this mission to happen, at the Zygerrians for abusing his Padawans, and at the Separatists for even starting this blasted war!

“This isn’t your fault and it will never _be_ your fault, no matter how hard to try to make it so. Obi-Wan is very stubborn,” Qui-Gon said, purposely keeping his voice neutral lest he unfairly subject Anakin to his rising anger. “But, then again, so are we. And your young Padawan, she’s stubborn as well. Together, we’ll be able to heal him.”

 _And each other,_ he mused as Anakin slowly nodded.

“Well,” Anakin began, “we need to get him to see a healer, for starters.”

“Easier said than done,” Qui-Gon said with a hum. “We’ll have to handle this carefully…”

Another nod from Anakin.

“But first…” Qui-Gon fixed him with a stare that held no room for negotiation, “you have to tell me everything.”

“You mean about the mission, or…”

“ _Everything._ ”

Anakin shrunk back a bit.

“From start to finish, every detail you can remember about the mission. From Kiros, to Zygerria, to Kadavo. _Everything_.”

Reluctantly, Anakin agreed.

“Good.”

As they started their walk down the Temple halls, Anakin recounted every horrific detail and Qui-Gon found his anger growing.

 _Anger leads to hate,_ he reminded himself, _and hate leads to suffering…_

“If you could’ve seen Obi-Wan when he walked out of that tower,” Anakin was saying. “It was like he didn’t even bother fighting back.”

_Suffering._

“And Ahsoka’s face Rex flinched away from her.”

_So much needless suffering._

“I couldn’t do it, Master. I knew it would blow all our covers, but I couldn’t swing that filthy electro-whip.”

The sharp pain digging into his palm pulled his attention off Anakin and onto his clenched fist.

_So much for releasing your anger into the Force, Qui-Gon._

Well, he would just have to try again later— _after_ Anakin had finished filling him in

“I could’ve killed them all,” Anakin admitted towards the end of his story. “Every kriffing one of them.”

“Why didn’t you?” Qui-Gon probed, keeping his voice calm.

“Ahsoka stopped me, I guess. And Obi-Wan.’

_Obi-Wan…_

They’d arrived at his door.

For a long moment, Qui-Gon reached into the room with the Force in an attempt to gauge his Padawan’s mental state. It wasn’t looking good—things seemed too calm, too quiet. Obi-Wan still had his shields firmly in place, but after more than twenty years fighting beside his former Padawan, Qui-Gon had learned how to pick up on the subtle details about Obi-Wan that most people missed.

And despite the shields and the pretense of serenity, he felt tiny trickles of anxiety, guilt, and fear seep through their bond.

_Hold on, Obi-Wan. I’m coming._

Beside him, Anakin was capping off his tale. “And he hasn’t been to see a medic since then. We both know a few measly bacta patches aren’t going to fix days of suffering at the hands of a Zygerrian slaver.”

His last words came out as a growl and Qui-Gon knew right then that he needed to see Obi-Wan first— _alone_.

Anakin was still too high-strung and emotional from the memories his mission had no doubt brought to the surface of his mind. _Why the Council ever thought sending a former slave on this kind of mission is beyond me._

And he would certainly be exchanging a few choice words with them about it as soon as he’d finished cleaning up their tangled mess that had just arrived back from Hell.

He turned towards Anakin when he realized the young man had gone unusually silent.

“You’re going in alone, aren’t you?”

Qui-Gon smirked. “Well, someone has to check up on Ahsoka.”

“Yeah, I guess so, but—Ah,” Anakin said with a knowing smirk of his own, “I see what you did there.”

“I promise I’ll send for you soon. I just… need to talk with him.”

“But you said you would help _me_ , not the other way around.”

Qui-Gon gave him a look, eliciting a sigh from the Knight.

“Fine. But call me the _second_ you’ve made some headway, okay?”

“Of course, Anakin. And let Ahsoka know that it’s going to be all right.”

“Sure, Master.”

 _I hope_ , Qui-Gon couldn’t help but think as he watched Anakin dash off in search of his Padawan. Inhaling deeply, Qui-Gon knocked on the door.

No response.

“Obi-Wan?”

Still nothing.

“Are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to pick the lock again?”

Silence.

The Jedi Master sighed. “Picking the lock it is, then.”

It took him longer than he’d like to admit, but then again, the war hadn’t made much time for honing one’s lock-picking skills.

The familiar room was dark when he entered and it seemed like just yesterday that he and Obi-Wan had moved into the quarters for the first time.

But that was years ago and Anakin was the current co-occupant of the living space. _Honestly, the boy needs to move his own Padawan in and Obi-Wan out._ The war also hadn’t left much time for adjustments either and Qui-Gon suspected Ahsoka enjoyed bunking over on the living room couch, where she could be in close proximity to her Master and Obi-Wan.

As he surveyed the forgotten sabacc game lying on the table, Qui-Gon was reminded exactly why he was thankful to have his own quarters.

The smell of strong Alderaanian tea brushed against his nostrils, tugging at his lips. Obi-Wan always kept a jar of Qui-Gon’s favorite tea leaves on hand for whenever the elder Master paid a visit.

Qui-Gon frowned. _He also only drinks my tea when he’s troubled._ And the sheer strength of the aroma spoke volumes.

“Obi-Wan?”

No reply, but then again, Qui-Gon hadn’t really been expecting one.

In the end, it was the darkness of the room that gave his Padawan away as it led Qui-Gon to the thin sliver of light streaming from the ‘fresher.

And there stood Obi-Wan, hunched over the sink, leaning against it as if the fixture was the only thing holding him upright. For the third time that day, Qui-Gon was forced to look upon the angry burns marring his Padawan’s dirt-stained skin. Only, this time, it was the collar-shaped mark hugging Obi-Wan’s neck that caught his attention.

Qui-Gon’s heart skipped a beat.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to break into someone’s room?” Obi-Wan’s voice was hoarse and dull. “Especially one that was clearly locked.”

“Well,” Qui-Gon said, not taking his eyes off the man in the mirror for a second, “I once lived here, too.”

Obi-Wan made no reply, he merely continued to glare at his reflection. For his part, Qui-Gon began to mull over the best way to proceed.

“Anakin told me what happened,” he tried, startling Obi-Wan, who seemed to have forgotten he was even standing there.

“His point of view, at least.”

“And now I’m here to listen to yours, if you’d like.”

A beat.

“I told you…” Obi-Wan’s voice started to quiver. “It’s in the mission report.”

Qui-Gon raised a brow. “Is it, truly?”

“Yes.”

“So,” he said, taking a step forward and keeping his tone calm, “if I read it, I’ll learn how you got those burns on your neck?”

Silence.

“Or perhaps I’ll discover exactly who gave you all those bruises and cuts?”

A slight wince.

“Or why you refuse to see a healer? But I don't suppose any of that will be in there, will it?”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were fine. I asked what happened.”

“Ask Rex.”

“I’m asking _you._ ”

Then, something in Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped.

“You want to know what happened?” Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan’s bruised knuckles whitened around the edge of the sink. “The moment I stepped off the transport, he killed seven Togrutans just to ‘get my attention.’ After that, anytime I tried to help someone— _anyone_ —a colonist would be beaten nearly to death or murdered right before my eyes. All because of _me._ ” He was trembling visibly now and Qui-Gon took another step closer. “I can still hear their screams… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get them out of my head. So many lives were lost simply because _I_ was there. Because I’m a Jedi. Somehow, he knew to play off my need to help others… to… t-to…”

When Obi-Wan’s sentence died, Qui-Gon ventured to speak once more. “Who, Obi-Wan?”

Inhaling sharply, Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut. “Keeper Agruss. He murdered so many of them… so needlessly. He let his guards run rampant and prey upon the helpless colonist while he just _sat_ there in that blasted _chair_ and _laughed._ It was all so needless… He put so much blood on my hands… Gallons and gallons of—” He choked back a sob. “How can I… Why didn’t I… How will I ever…?”

“Obi-Wan, none of this is your fault.”

“It’s easy for you to make such a claim,” Obi-Wan said with a bitter laugh. “You weren’t there.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, Padawan.” At the mention of his old title, Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes tighter. “But the colonists are fine now. They’re going to be all right. Believe me, they _will_ recover—”

A sudden crash pierced the air as Obi-Wan’s fist collided with the mirror, scattering thin shards of glass across the room.

“Not the dead ones, Qui-Gon!” Then, he spun around, his eyes blazing. “Can you honestly tell that to the mothers and fathers who lost their children? The husbands who lost their wives, and the children, their parents? Can you say that to the faces of brothers who will never again see their sisters? Who lost everything because of _me_ ?” Qui-Gon’s concern heightened as he watched his Padawan sway, something Obi-Wan himself didn’t seem to notice. “Because I was foolish enough to get myself captured? Reckless enough to…” He blinked hard. “... To even put Ahsoka and Anakin in such positions in the… the first… place. Because… because I… I… Oh, _Master…_ ”

Qui-Gon jerked forward, his sole mission being to catch his Padawan before he bashed his skull on the sink. “Obi-Wan!”

The moment he held Obi-Wan securely in his arms was the moment he allowed himself to breathe again. The younger Jedi’s eyes saw only worlds and memories that were far away, though they gazed blankly up at Qui-Gon through flickering lids.

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” he sighed, then lifted his beaten Padawan and carried him into his room. _So much for talking it out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any speculations? And particularly aspects of the Zygerrian arc you would like to see Anakin, Obi-Wan, or Ahsoka heal from?


	3. Three

Obi-Wan’s bed was neatly made and looked as if no one had occupied it for some time.  _ How long has he been on the field without proper rest? _

The bruises under Obi-Wan’s eyes faded into the shadows as Qui-Gon lit a small lamp fixed on the wall at his bedside. After he’d gently laid his Padawan down, he went to go fetch the medkit he knew Obi-Wan kept in a drawer in the kitchen, hoping it was still well stocked.

Obi-Wan, fully coherent by the time he returned, was attempting to push himself up. With a firm but gentle hand, Qui-Gon settled him back down against the pillow.

“There will be none of that,” he soothed as he opened the kit and withdrew a batch patch. “Now, be still.”

“‘M fine…”

“Of course, you are.” Carefully, Qui-Gon applied the healing gell to Obi-Wan’s wrists and neck.

And that was about as far as he got before Obi-Wan jerked away from him.

“That’s enough… I’m fine… I-I’ll be  _ fine _ .”

“Be still, I only need to—”

Obi-Wan struggled to sit up again. “I don’t need batca, I need rest. That’s all—”

“ _ Still _ , Obi-Wan.”

At Qui-Gon’s stern command, Obi-Wan gingerly lowered himself back onto the pillow.

“That’s better. Now,” he forced a small smile, a stark contrast to his anguished soul, “I’m going to remove your tunic. Tell me if anything starts to hurt—”

Obi-Wan’s fingers locked around his wrist in an instant, preventing his own fingers from even coming close to the deceptively clean clothing. Qui-Gon found himself briefly wondering if his Padawan had enlisted help in changing his robes during their flight home or if he had struggled through it on his own. His heart clenched as he realized it was most definitely the latter.

He fixed the young Master with a look. “Unless you’ve already tended to the wounds I can’t see—the ones that cause you to wince when you walk,” he added as Obi-Wan tried to protest, “I’m afraid it’s me or one of the healers.”

“I’ll tend to it myself later,” Obi-Wan replied, his lips barely moving under the fatigue.

“I could summon Master Che right now.” The threat was lightly made, but Obi-Wan’s frown deepened nonetheless. “I’m certain she would have a few choice words for you, considering it’s taken you this long to receive proper medical care…”

When it seemed as if Obi-Wan was relenting, Qui-Gon reached out once more, only to be met with the familiar grip of Obi-Wan’s palms clamping around his wrists.

“Don’t.”

Trying to keep his exasperation at bay, Qui-Gon stilled. “Why not? Obi-Wan, you’re being ridiculous. I’ve tended far worse injuries of yours than this, I’m sure.”

“There’s never been  _ anything _ like this,” Obi-Wan replied softly.

“Obi-Wan…”

“…  _ Please _ …”

With a sigh, Qui-Gon drew back. “All right. We’ll see to it later, then.”

“ _ I’ll _ see to it.”

“Yes, all right,  _ you _ will, if that’s how you want it.”

“It is.”

Qui-Gon nodded, an idea forming in his mind. “If you won’t let me help you, at least allow me to check for a fever.”

“Fever?” Obi-Wan looked puzzled, but made no move to stop Qui-Gon’s hand as he placed gently atop Obi-Wan’s forehead. “There shouldn’t be any fever…”

“Infection is a tricky thing,” Qui-Gon answered with a smile, and already, Obi-Wan’s eyelids began to flutter. “And you’ve let your wounds go untreated for far too long.”

“Wait…” Obi-Wan croaked, realizing what his Master was doing. “Wait… You… You  _ tricked _ me!”

Qui-Gon continued to ease the Force-suggestion of sleep into his Padawan’s tormented mind. “And you fell for it, I’m afraid. Again.”

Obi-Wan made feeble protests, most of which were inaudible, until his lids finally became too heavy to keep open. “That… That wasn’t… fair…”

“You’re the one not being fair,” Qui-Gon replied as he watched him drift off into what he hoped would be a peaceful sleep. “You’re not being fair to yourself, my young Padawan. Just be glad I have enough self-preservation for the two of us.”

Soon, Obi-Wan’s breathing evened out and Qui-Gon let out a sigh of relief.

“Now,” he muttered to himself, “let’s see about those wounds…”

What he discovered beneath the pristine tunic stole his very breath away.

_ Oh, Force… _

Cuts and bruises littered Obi-Wan’s back and chest, but the worst of it were the angry lashes that would no doubt scar if not treated properly.

_ Perhaps a few will scar anyway,  _ Qui-Gon thought bitterly.

He forced his hands not to shake as he applied the bacta, finding strange solace in silently cursing the slavers who’d dared put their filthy hands on his Padawan.

A moan shook the air and Qui-Gon froze, fearing for a moment his former apprentice might be waking up. But soon, Obi-Wan was breathing steadily again, though his exhales were a bit ragged now. 

_ I should have been there. I never should have let this happen. _ He snatched up a roll of gauze and began wrapping the blistered wounds.  _ Electro-whip _ Anakin had said. Qui-Gon grimaced at the mere thought of what sort of pain such a weapon would cause.

_ What kind of a Master am I to fail my own student in such a way? _

He caught himself before the thought could take hold.  _ No. _ To stoop to that thought would make him a hypocrite. _ It’s as you told Obi-Wan: none of this is your fault. No one here is to the blame but the Separatists. _

_ No one here… _

Then why did he still feel the seeds of guilt sprouting up in his soul?

Obi-Wan cameto just as he finished securing the last of the gauze, through which tiny patches of blood tried in vain to ooze.

“S-Stop…” the injured Jedi whispered. “P-please… No, I…”

Qui-Gon’s forehead creased as he put away the medical supplies. “Obi-Wan?”

“Don’t hurt them… Please…  _ Please, _ I-I beg you,  _ stop! _ ”

He prevented Obi-Wan from bolting out of bed just in time, firmly placing him back on the pillow. “Shh… Obi-Wan, it’s all right. Everyone is safe; there’s no need to worry.”

“Master Qui-Gon, what…?” He put a trembling hand to his forehead before his eyes grew wide. “You tricked me.”

“I’m sorry, but you needed medical treatment. And before you say anything else, I wasn’t lying about the fever. Already you’re growing warmer than when I first arrived.”

Sighing, Obi-Wan shut his eyes for a moment and Qui-Gon bit his tongue so as not to bring up the whip lashes he’d seen. “Thank you, I suppose.”

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow, allowing a slight smirk to tug at his lips. “You suppose?”

“Well, you  _ did _ promise me I could take care of the wounds myself.”

“I don’t recall ever  _ promising _ anything, and if I’m not mistaken, didn’t you promise Anakin you would see a healer?”

At the mention of his former student’s name, Obi-Wan fell silent.

“How  _ is _ Anakin?” he asked after a few moments.

Qui-Gon was thoughtful with his answer. “He’s concerned about you, as I am. And he’s… disappointed that you won’t confide in him.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Obi-Wan—”

“Tea.”

Qui-Gon was taken aback at the sudden change. “What?”

“My tea,” Obi-Wan repeated, clearing his throat with a cough. “Would you mind…?”

A nod. “Of course.”

As he made the short journey into the kitchen, Qui-Gon mulled over all Obi-Wan had told him, trying to piece together some sort of cohesive picture of what life would have been like for Captain Rex and Obi-Wan in their Kadavo prison.

And why Obi-Wan seemed so wary of Anakin all of a sudden.

Yes, there were definitely quite a few questions that needed answers, all of which—Qui-Gon hoped—held the key to mending his Padawans’ wounded hearts.

With two cups of tea in his hands, Qui-Gon only got halfway through the suite before the front door swished open.

And there was Anakin standing in the doorway.

“I got tired of waiting,” was all he said by way of explanation as he entered the room.

“How’s Ahsoka?”

“She’s resting now—meditating, I think.” Anakin made a face. “How’s Obi-Wan?”

Qui-Gon smiled as he watched Anakin disappear into the bedroom. Sometimes, the boy’s forward—and often reckless—behavior reminded him of himself.  _ Perhaps he’ll be able to get through to— _

“Where’d he go?”

_ What? _ Qui-Gon picked up his pace.  _ Oh, no. _

The empty bed nearly stopped his heart.  _ Blast! _

“He was just here,” Qui-Gon said, still dumbstruck.

“Well, he’s not now.”

“Thank you, Anakin, I can  _ see _ that.”

The tunic was gone as well, yet the medkit remained.

“Want me to go look for him?” Anakin offered as Qui-Gon discarded the cups on the side table. “He’s probably either off meditating somewhere or checking up on his troops.”

“For his sake,” Qui-Gon began, grabbing his cloak on the way out, “it had better be the former.”


	4. Four

If Qui-Gon discovered him, he was dead.

_ I should’ve stayed in bed, _ he scolded himself, but deep down, he knew that wouldn’t have been possible. He couldn’t breathe in the bedroom; couldn’t think. Every time he thought of his Master looking at those degrading lashes on his back, Obi-Wan found it difficult to catch his breath.

_ There is no emotion, there is peace. _

He would’ve scoffed aloud at the mantra if he had the energy.  _ Tell me, oh Illustrious Jedi Code, where is the peace for the Togrutan colonists? Where will they find their serenity amidst this lingering chaos? And how will they contend with the cruel reality of death without the Force? _

A stab of pain rattled against his skull and Obi-Wan braced himself for the oncoming headache. Relaxing his face helped a little, but not enough. He forced his fists to go limp, abandoning the tight grip of his nails digging into his flesh.

_ Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. _ Centering his mind once again, he breathed deeply in an attempt to reach some form of normal meditation.

One that didn’t involve reliving Kadavo every time his mind wandered.

_ There is no emotion, there is peace… There is no chaos, there is serenity. _

Obi-Wan bit his tongue to keep the bitter laugh at bay.

In the education facility, there hadn’t been any of that.  _ There is no serenity, only chaos. There is no peace, only emotion. _

_ Yes… Only unbridled, raging emotion. I can barely control Anakin’s wild emotions without having to rein in my own as well. _

_ Anakin… _ The mission hadn’t been easy for him, that much was very clear. Obi-Wan had always thought that if he could only get one small taste of the horrors his Padawan had gone through as a child, perhaps it might allow him to better relate to his brother.

Now…  _ Now, the fact that it’s finally happened seems to have created a deeper rift between us. _

Obi-Wan didn’t know how to relate to Anakin after being forced into slavery and Anakin seemed to feel just as lost when it came to relating to  _ Obi-Wan _ trying to relate to  _ him _ .

His head spun and he swallowed down a wave of nausea.

No, he couldn’t relate to Anakin in that way, even now.  _ The short ordeal I’ve been through could never account for nine years worth of bondage. _ He felt he didn't have the  _ right _ to relate to Anakin in that way.

_ And hopefully, _ a voice whispered in the back of his mind,  _ you never will _ . _ Almost three years since the boy was Knighted and you’re still managing to fail him _ .

The truth of the statement stuck Obi-Wan to the core.  _ Anakin never should have been there. Especially considering his past… I never should have let him come along. _

And Ahsoka…  _ Ahsoka…  _ He would never be able to shake the sight of her in that awful costume. Was the Order now stooping so low as to sexualize  _ children  _ for the sake of a mission?  _ And I let her do it.  _ He clenched a fist.  **_I_ ** _ let her play the part… And it nearly cost me all of them. _

His next breath was shakier than the last.

_ Inhale, exhale. _

_ There is no emotion, there is peace. _

_ There is no emotion, there is peace. _

_ There is no— _

“I thought I might find you here.”

On any other given occasion, the soft, familiar voice of his Master would have warmed him. In that moment, it only filled him with dread.

Obi-Wan held back a wince. He didn’t open his eyes, keeping up the pretense of his meditation.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

_ Yes, _ Obi-Wan wanted to scream.  _ Yes, get away before I fall apart. If you’ll just leave me be so I can lose it in solitude, that would be quite lovely, thank you. _

“You know, one usually comes to the most secluded section of the Room of a Thousand Fountains to be alone… But, no, I don’t mind,” he finally replied and listened as his Master knelt down across from him.

“Thank you.”

And they sat together in silence for what seemed to Obi-Wan like an eternity. But he refused to be the first to speak—he wasn’t sure what would happen if he did; what sort of emotions would bleed into his tired tones; what sort of hidden information he might unwillingly disclose to his former Master.

So, he contented himself to wait.

Finally, Qui-Gon lightly cleared his throat. “Anakin is looking for you.”

A grimace masquerading as a smile tugged at his split lips. “Of course, he is.”

“Shall I comm him and tell him to stop pestering Cody for your whereabouts?”

“Poor Cody,” he mumbled, vowing to make it up to the frazzled commander. “But no, not yet. I’m sure he’ll find us sooner or later. You did, after all.”

“Yes, but I knew where to look.”

“And Anakin doesn’t?”

“Well,”—here, Qui-Gon chuckled, a warm sound that chased away a bit of the chill biting at Obi-Wan’s skin—“I gave him a few other places to search. He’ll be busy for awhile. Long enough for us to talk,” he added after a beat.

“We  _ are _ talking,” Obi-Wan replied, eyes still closed.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” If his eyes  _ had _ been open, Obi-Wan supposed he might’ve seen his Master raise a brow.

“Obi-Wan.”

He knew that tone all-too-well. It was the same one he’d used on Anakin countless times before—and still did to this day. A simple name laced with a warning.

_ Well, it won’t work. Not this time, _ he decided.

But Obi-Wan was spilling his heart before he could stop himself.

“I was too young to train him,” he began. “Why did you let me?”

Neither spoke for a moment as Qui-Gon mulled over his answer. Obi-Wan kept his lids shut, preferring the soothing blackness to the prospect of his Master’s disappointed features.

_ This entire mission was a disappointment.  _ **_I’m_ ** _ a disappointment. Surely, he’s disappointed in me because of what I’ve done to Anakin and Ahsoka. I couldn’t protect them. _

_ I couldn’t protect any of them… _

When Qui-Gon responded, it was far from the sort of answer Obi-Wan had desired.

“I thought you were ready. Training a Padawan had been good for you just as it has been for Anakin.”  _ How generic, _ he mused, but Qui-Gon wasn’t finished. “I’ve watched you grow into the Jedi I always knew you could be because of it—in ways you never could have if I’d let you continue on your own.”

Perhaps it was the blatency of this confession, or that Obi-Wan wasn’t as prepared for the words as he thought he’d been, but his eyelids fluttered open.

He stared at his Master for a moment before making his own reply.

“And do you still think that, even after all this? After I forced my Padawan back into the very life we rescued him from?”

“Yes.” It was a short answer, yet it carried a gravity that weighed instantly on Obi-Wan’s heart.

“ _ Why _ ? Why, when I’ve failed the very man I dedicated my life to helping succeed?”

“Obi-Wan, you have proven to me time and time again that there is  _ nothing _ you can do that could ever shake my faith in you.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, fending off the dampness that had begun to gather around the edges of his lids.

“I…” He swallowed, willing his voice not to shake. “What he went through as a child… I… I-I couldn’t understand it then… and now that I do, I don’t… I don’t know how to…” The chuckle that escaped his lips was a dry one, as humorless as a protocol droid. “How to  _ speak _ , apparently. Or… Or explain to you what I’m trying to… to  _ explain _ to you.”

Qui-Gon’s palm came to rest on his knee and Obi-Wan opened his eyes once more.

“Then  _ show _ me, Padawan.”

The implications of his statement was not lost on Obi-Wan, and for a moment, he didn’t think he could. Not without revealing everything. Every flick of the whip, every boot to the chest, every Togrutan death, every shock of the collar, every bolt of electricity that burned down his spine.

Every degrading, horrific moment. They would all come crashing down if he let Qui-Gon in; removed his shields.

“Obi-Wan,  _ show _ me how to help you.”

With the tiniest of nods, Obi-Wan’s shields came down and he bared his soul to his Master. After all, he trusted Qui-Gon with his life—and had for more than twenty years. What stopped him from trusting him with his memories in the same way?

_ Because then he’ll see you for the failure you truly are. He’ll see how you couldn’t protect Anakin; couldn’t save the Togrutas. _

Yet, he kept his shields lowered.

The action was freeing, yet terrifying as Obi-Wan was forced to relive each memory along with Qui-Gon, whose comforting grip on his knee tightened.

He also forced his eyes to remain open. He wouldn’t hide from this, not again. This was his choice,  _ he _ was the one in control of his memories. And if it became too much, well…

_ That’s what mental shields are there for in the first place, right? _

He conveniently skipped over any scenes involving his fight in the Kiros main tower with D’Nar, tucking those memories away safely in the back of his mind where they wouldn’t be distrurbed again. It wasn’t important to the situation at hand, and Obi-Wan didn’t need another lecture on the safety of his negotiating tactics.

Rescuing Governor Roshti flashed across their bond, followed by their fall off that flying creature—of which Obi-Wan had never gotten a chance to learn the name. Then he watched as he was recognized by the Zygerrian from the hologram.

_ “I never forget a Jedi.” _

When it came to the memory of the slave auction, Obi-Wan averted his eyes, finding a small waterfall to focus on instead of Qui-Gon’s penetrating stare.

_ “Looks like I have to rescue you again, old man.” _

_ “I… knew you’d have a backup plan.” _

Only, the backup plan had backfired. Obi-Wan could almost feel the electricity coursing through his veins as he watched the memory fade to black along with his past self’s consciousness.

_ “Now that I have your attention, Jedi…” _

Seven Togrutans falling to their deaths. Obi-Wan blinked hard, willing the terrified screams to silence.

_ “... be aware that it will not be  _ **_you_ ** _ who suffers should you defy me.” _

Another jarring bolt of electricity.

_ “Speech is forbidden!” _

The sharp crack of a whip; a Togrutan colonist’s collapse; Obi-Wan shoving Rex out of harm’s way.

_ “No, please! It was my mistake! Leave him alone!” _

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut as the onslaught of memories continued to flood their bond, coming quicker now, and bringing with them more lingering pain.

Then came the screams, though they weren’t the ones that echoed in the background of every memory. No, they were his own as the Zygerrian guard thrust his electrostaff into Obi-Wan’s collar, sending waves of jarring pain down his abused neck.

_ “Now a slave gives  _ **_me_ ** _ commands?” _

He watched as the whip fell a second time, relentless in its quest to punish the colonist for Obi-Wan’s disobedience.

_ “Beg!” _

He flinched at the cruel memory.

_ “Beg me before this one  _ **_dies_ ** _ because of  _ **_you!_ ** _ ” _

The whip never let up.

_ “P-please… Please, Master, I—” _

And just as quickly as it had begun, Obi-Wan stopped the memory, slicing through the bond with his shields and cutting the connection.

Air eluded him; he couldn’t catch a breath. His chest constricted and he was vaguely aware of someone calling his name.

“Obi-Wan…”

_ “Master Jedi…” _

“Obi-Wan!”

_ “Jedi skug!” _

“Obi-Wan!”

_ “Jedi  _ **_slave!_ ** _ ” _

“ _ Obi-Wan _ !”

At the sudden burning touch on his arm, Obi-Wan jerked to his feet, stumbling to get away from his assailant. Only, his feet couldn’t seem to find a purchase and he felt his body begin to tumble backwards.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: At the sudden burning touch on his arm, Obi-Wan jerked to his feet, stumbling to get away from his assailant. Only, his feet couldn’t seem to find a purchase and he felt his body begin to tumble backwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super short, but honestly, I though I would have the other half written by now. XD I’ve been spending too much time on my Obitine story, “Take the World.” But this will be finished! Just bear with me. :)

That’s when the hands returned, grabbing at his arms and shoulders, forcing him somewhere he didn’t want to go. That he  _ never _ wanted to go.

_ Stop! _ He wanted to shout, but his voice failed him.  _ Stop! No, no! _

The hands were on his face now, pulling at his scars, pushing on his bruises, and… and…

And cupping his face.

Wiping his tears.

Soothing his mind…

“Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, listen to me— _ look _ at me.”

He blinked, trying to focus on the voice he knew, the voice he loved.

“Look at me.  _ Look  _ at _ me _ !”

“M-Master…?” He blinked again, the soft face of Qui-Gon Jinn coming into view, his worried expression eating holes in Obi-Wan’s soul. “... Master…?”

“Obi-Wan, are you all right?”

It was a stupid question, but Obi-Wan supposed he would have asked it as well if the roles were reversed.

“Let’s…” Obi-Wan coughed, “... uh, not do that again… shall we?”

Instead of replying, Obi-Wan was enveloped in a rare embrace. At first, he couldn’t get his heart rate to slow down and he feared for a moment the touch might send him flying head first into another panic attack.

But soon, he was melting into his Master’s embrace. And he was  _ breathing _ . Not ragged breaths that were hard to catch and hard to keep, but deep, calming gulps of air.

“I’m so sorry, Padawan,” Qui-Gon whispered and Obi-Wan swallowed down a rising sob. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. And there will be times when it will happen again, when the galaxy will keep me away from you when you need me most, but I promise you: I will always be there to catch you before you hit the ground. Before you hit rock bottom.”

Obi-Wan nodded silently and tightened his grip on his Master.

“And I’m here too.”

Anakin’s voice caught him by surprise and he jerked his head up just in time to see his former apprentice push through the hedges.

“Anakin!” He choked out and pulled away from Qui-Gon’s blatant show of affection.

“Oh please,” Anakin said, waving a passive hand, “do you really think I care about the Code? Especially now, of all times. The only thing stopping me from coming in for a hug of my own is—”

_ Me, _ Obi-Wan finished when Anakin trailed off.  _ Because I messed everything up on our mission. _

Then, as always, Qui-Gon stepped in to fill the dead air.

“Anakin, why don’t you take Obi-Wan back to your quarters? He never got to finish his tea.”

“I think I’m quite capable of getting there myself…” It was his turn to trail off, withering under his Master’s stern look.

“I can call Master Che right now…”

“On second thought,” Obi-Wan said quickly, joining Anakin at the edge of the clearing, “I think a bit of company would do me some good. Come along, Anakin.”

“Uh…” Anakin looked uncertain for a moment, but after a gentle nod from Qui-Gon, he followed. “Right behind you.”

And that’s where he remained. Obi-Wan could hear him— _ feel  _ him—trailing a short ways behind for the duration of their walk. Neither spoke.

Neither knew what to say.

_ What  _ **_does_ ** _ one say to the man—the  _ **_brother—_ ** _ he so horribly failed? _

Obi-Wan didn’t know. So he kept his eyes forward, never daring to glance back.

And so they walked on, mere inches apart, yet separated by a gaping chasm neither of them could seem to cross.

As they neared their quarters, Obi-Wan began to fear they might never be able to close such a wide gap again.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka’s turn to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow update. I hope you all enjoy! This story is almost to its end. Maybe a few more chapters. At least two. ;) :D

Qui-Gon settled himself down on his knees, shifting easily into his favorite meditation pose.

He had felt her presence before he'd sent Obi-Wan away with Anakin, though it was obvious she was trying her best to remain hidden.

It was the thin slivers of anguish bleeding through her shields that ultimately gave her away.

So, Qui-Gon silently welcomed her over with a slight Force suggestion, hoping she would accept the non-verbal invitation.

She didn't.

"Ahsoka," he said at last, his voice warm and inviting. "Would you join me for a meditation?"

Slowly, hesitantly, the Padawan revealed herself, an uncharacteristically timid expression on her young face.

_Oh, dear Ahsoka. What have they done to you?_

"I'll sit with you, Master Qui-Gon," she offered, the hesitation still palpable, "but… I'm afraid it's… a little hard to meditate right now."

"Well," he replied with a warm smile, "I would appreciate the company all the same."

Reluctantly, she settled down into a rather wilted lotus position and, despite her previous claim, she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

"If meditation is not coming easy to you, young one, I would suggest refraining."

"It never hurts to try, Master Qui-Gon," came her small reply.

Instantly, his mind was transported to a distant memory of a very young Padawan with cropped auburn hair, meditating on a mat in his room, eyes squeezed shut in deep concentration.

" _Obi-Wan, a true meditation does not require you to try so hard."_

_The boy barely moved._

" _But this is the only way I can get it to work, Master."_

" _And why do you suppose that is?"_

_A beat, then a single tear trickling down his cheek._

" _Because I—" A choked sob. "I can't stop seeing her, Master."_

" _Who?"_

" _... Cerasi… She died in my arms and I can't… Unless I try really hard, her face… I can't… I can't…"_

"Ahsoka." His voice carried a gravity that made her eyes snap open. "Perhaps… we can figure out _why_ you're having such trouble."

She made no reply, but her expression told him that she already knew the answer. He found he did too.

And yet, he waited for her to speak, to open her heart and mind when she was ready, not when he forced her to do so.

So, he waited. It was a trick he had often used on Obi-Wan, who, even to this day, could not stand the silent gaze of his Master. Sooner or later, Ahsoka would open up, and he would be ready to hear, to _listen_ when she did.

A sigh shook Ahsoka's thin frame and she bowed her head. "I can't meditate because… because I keep… hearing things."

"What sort of things, young one?"

"You know… _things._ " A pained gulp. "When we were captured, they put me in a cage suspended over the city. That didn't bother me too much, I don't think… But the Zygerrian they chose to guard me." She hesitated briefly. "He wouldn't stop threatening me with… He… He said I would be his. And he said… other things. Things I can't even say and keep my conscience clear."

Then, a single tear trickled down her cheek.

"No one's ever said anything like that to me before," she continued softly. "I don't really know how to… to handle it, how to stop… stop picturing what he was suggesting—what he threatened to do to… to me.. Oh, Master Qui-Gon…" She lifted her sad eyes towards his. "What do I do? How can I fix it? What will I do if I can't meditate?"

"The word of others," he began slowly, "is merely one of the many things in this galaxy we will never be able to control. What we can control, however, is how we choose to react; how we move on. You must let go of these emotions—release them into the Force."

She sighed. "I know. I've tried, believe me. I've _tried!_ But I can't… I don't… What he said, I can't let it go."

"Have you told anyone what he told you?"

A small shake of the head, her montrals waving. "I told you, I can't even bring _myself_ to say it, much less tell someone else."

"Then whisper it to me through the Force. Through our bond, Ahsoka. Your lips don't ever have to move. Sometimes, confiding in others is the first step towards healing."

It took her a few moments to agree, but when she finally did, Qui-Gon shifted closer to her. Close enough to place a hand on her knee.

"Whenever you're ready, Padawan. I'll be here. Take your time."

A nod. Then silence.

And Qui-Gon prepared his mind.

When it came, floating like an invisible disease through the air, infecting his brain, the Jedi Master realized no amount of preparation could have readied him for what that Zygerrian monster said to his beloved little Padawan.

It took every ounce of self-restraint to keep his fists from balling.

"Good," he prompted, his tone calm. "Now, I'm going to help you release it into the Force."

"You can _do_ that?"

Surprised, Qui-Gon caught himself before he accidentally broke the connection, the meditation. "Of course. We're connected. For the moment, I am your teacher. I will help guide your unwanted feelings into the Force and out of your mind."

"Okay…" Though she still seemed unsure, Ahsoka dutifully followed all his directions until the task was completed.

As Qui-Gon pulled himself out of the meditation, he noticed Ahsoka's eyes were still closed.

So he waited. Again.

And watched.

And tried desperately not to seethe.

_How dare that barve say such things to my Padawan? To this poor little girl?_

She didn't deserve it—any of it. _She should be training alongside her Master and going on missions of peace, not campaigns of war._

"Master Qui-Gon…?" The child's soft question brought him back to the here and now. "Did it work?"

"How do you feel?"

A beat. "Better. I feel… like I could have meditated a little longer, actually."

He felt a smile tug at his lips. "Why didn't you?"

"I'm worried about Masters Obi-Wan and Anakin… Do you think they'll be okay?"

"Ahsoka, do you think _you_ will be okay?"

"... I wasn't sure when you asked before, but… Yes." Here, she smiled, though only slightly. "I think I will. Thank you, Master."

"Anytime, young one. But tell me, hasn't Anakin ever helped you release your pain into the Force?"

"Well… he taught me _how,_ but we haven't really had much time to do it together. Not like this, anyway."

_This blasted war._

"I'm sure we can remedy that," Qui-Gon promised, earning a wider, brighter smile from the young Togruta. "Until then, I might need your help with something."

"With what, Master?" Her eyes lit up, a mix of excitement and confusion.

Qui-Gon simply grinned.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin talk... or try to, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow update. I've been trying to finish my other Clone Wars fanfiction: My Brother's Keeper. All the while, simultaneously working on one about Obi-Wan and Satine, and my first fic about Rex! Anyway, hope you like it! :D

_If he doesn't want to talk to me, fine, but he doesn't have to act like I'm not even here._

Anakin had spent nearly the entire walk to their quarters burning holes in Obi-Wan's back and silently ranting to himself.

_Hello? I'm a hurting human being and I'm here too, in case you haven't noticed._

The minute they set foot in the familiar room, his Master made a break for the kitchen. It wasn't long before Anakin heard the light clink of cups and the age-old clank of the tea kettle.

 _Tea._ Anakin nearly scoffed aloud. _Of course, that's the first thing he does._

He knew they needed to talk, to give voice to the swirling thoughts that were clogging their minds.

But Obi-Wan seemed more content to stay silent and brew his tea.

Anakin huffed. _It's up to me then._ _ **Again**_ _._ Another huff, louder this time, though still not enough to catch his former Master's attention. _Well, it's now or never._

With more hesitation than he would have liked, he followed his friend into the kitchen, leaning casually against the edge of the counter.

His heart clenched a little when he noticed two cups sitting side by side near the stovetop.

"You know I still don't like tea," he commented, trying to keep all traces of irritation and concern out of his voice.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Obi-Wan's face. "And yet, for some odd reason, you always drink it."

 _That's because_ _ **you**_ _made it for me._ "Hey, I'm thirsty."

"Well, don't overdo it with the sugar this time."

"Is there even any left from last time?"

"Honestly? I wouldn't count on it."

And for a moment, things almost felt normal again. Except for the small fact that their banter felt hollow, shallow.

Like they were both trying to compensate for something that had dissolved back on Zygerria. For the chasm that had continued to widen, _widen_ since Kadavo.

Silence settled over the two, more suffocating than ever before.

And Anakin could hardly stand it.

"Obi-Wan, listen—"

"Anakin…"

"No!" His voice came out sharper than he'd intended, but there was no backing down now. "No. You can't dance around this anymore."

"I'm not—"

"You _are._ And it's driving me insane!" As if to emphasize—though if he was honest, the action stemmed more from a need to do something with his hands—he mimicked an explosion with his metal hand.

And it might have just been a trick if the ear, but he could've sworn he heard Obi-Wan mutter, "That makes two of us, then."

Anakin blinked. _Okay. That's a new one._

"Then let's _talk_ about it. Come on," he cajoled. "Just me and you."

Obi-Wan went back to his tea preparations. "There's nothing to talk about."

"There's _everything_ to talk about! You need to tell me how I can help you. How I can _really_ help you. Not just a 'I'm fine, Anakin,' or 'just a cup of tea would be nice, thank you.' I mean _truly_. How can I—"

"You can't."

Anakin froze as Obi-Wan's dull eyes fell upon him. He hadn't expected that sort of answer. His comeback to an _I'm fine_ was all set and ready to go, but _this_?

For a single, pain-filled moment, Anakin spluttered. When he finally found his voice, Obi-Wan had already beat him to it.

"So, let's just forget it, all right?"

"Forget it?" _How can you forget something like Kadavo? Like Zygerria?_

Against his own will, he shuddered, and while it was only a slight movement, he was sure Obi-Wan noticed.

"Fine. You want to pretend you can just push it all out of your mind like that?" He snapped his fingers. Hard. Obi-Wan winced a bit, but Anakin wasn't done. "Okay. Fine. We can do that. I can pretend. That's what I've been doing for the better part of ten years, so I think I'm used to now. Pretending you're fine, making believe everything is just peachy when it's not. But you can't push away the fact that you're hurting. I _know_ you are. I know _you_ , Obi-Wan. And this isn't _you._ Come on, there has to be something I can do to help you—at least one thing."

Curling his arms around his chest in his signature defense move, Obi-Wan shook his head. "There isn't."

"There _has_ to be!"

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there isn't one thing you can do to help me. Not _one_ _ **thing**_ _._ "

Anakin's blood was boiling now, bubbling hot and angry beneath the surface of his skin. "Oh yeah? Well, there seemed to be plenty _Qui-Gon_ could do to help. And even Cody! _Cody!_ I saw you talking to him on the return trip from Kadavo. When I came around, you both stopped. I'm not an idiot, Obi-Wan, and I don't like being treated like one."

"Qui-Gon is my Master," Obi-Wan replied evenly, taking a small step back from Anakin; not even bothering to correct his sentence to the past tense.

"And I'm your Padawan! Your _brother_! If anyone can help you, it's _me._ "

"You're the _last_ person who could ever—"

_No. No! Don't finish that statement if you know what's good for you!_

"How do you know? You aren't even giving me a chance!"

Obi-Wan shivered and went to turn back to his tea kettle, but Anakin wasn't having any of it.

He reached out to place a restraining hand on his stubborn friend's arm. " _Obi-Wan!_ "

In an instant, Obi-Wan shuddered, more violently this time, and yanked his arm well out of Anakin's reach.

Stunned motionless, Anakin simply stared at his Master. "Obi-Wan…?"

"I…" For the briefest of moments, his Master seemed lost, a sickened glint swimming across his eyes. Then, it was gone almost before Anakin could comprehend it. "I'm done talking about this, Anakin. I'm done—"

The kettle chose that second to scream bloody murder, a loud and sudden indication that the water was now fit for tea. _Kriffing kettle—_

Anakin nearly staggered against the bolt of fear and anxiety that shot through the Force. Nanoseconds later, it was gone. Tamed and controlled by whoever had just…

_Obi-Wan?_

Fixing his gaze on his former Master, Anakin studied him—truly studied him. His face, his neck, his eyes, his smile, or lack thereof. Everything about him was wayoff. He seemed uncertain, almost jittery.

 _And Obi-Wan is_ _**always** _ _certain._

And the _fear._

Though it had disappeared all-too-quickly, Anakin had no doubt that the spike had come from—

"Obi-Wan?"

 _It's like he was afraid of_ _**me** _ _… or… or_ _**something.** _

_Something he refuses to tell me about._

"I'm—"

"Fine?" Anakin could have cut the tension with a well-charged vibroblade.

Then, Obi-Wan lifted his gaze, meeting Anakin's eyes for the first time since entering their quarters. " _Sorry._ "

Anakin blinked. _What?_

He must have given voice to the bewildered thought because Obi-Wan continued:

"I'm _sorry_ , Anakin." He took a shaky breath, silencing the shrieking kettle with what he would normally tell Anakin was an 'improper use of the Force.' Anakin felt it wasn't the time to point out this particular bit of hypocrisy. "I'm sorry, I can't… You never should have gone on that mission. Neither should Ahsoka… I should have… You…"

Obi-Wan swallowed.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin could barely hear his own voice over the din in his head.

"It was no place for any of us, and I'm sorry."

"It's not your—"

"But it _is,_ " Obi-Wan pressed. "And I'm _sorry_."

 _Would you just quit saying that already?_ Anakin screamed internally, rapidly blinking away his rising emotions.

"I'm sorry…" Here, Obi-Wan's voice cracked. "If I ever… ever _discounted_ your experience as a child. What you went through…" He shook his head. "I'll never understand it or be able to relate on any sort of level. But if I ever made you feel… if I ever invalidated the trauma you endured as a…" Another painful swallow. "As a…"

Anakin felt a set of nails dig mercilessly into his palm. _A slave._

"Anyway. Anyway, I'm sorry. For everything. And I hope you might…" Now Obi-Wan was blinking at a speed that rivaled Anakin. "Might one day forgi—"

Anakin's arms were around Obi-Wan in seconds, holding tightly to his one constant in life, in war.

"I'm sorry," he whispered through a throat clogged with emotion. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry._ "

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan's voice was soft and soothing, a tone Anakin had never been able to achieve himself, no matter how hard he'd tried. There was just something about Obi-Wan that made him comforting. He had it down—the voice, the touch, the Force feeling, all of it.

 _And what do I have? Nothing. I can't even comfort my own Master, for crying out loud! He has to be the one to comfort_ _**me!** _

"I'm sorry I couldn't—" Anakin choked back a sob. _Stop it! Stop it!_ But he'd never been able to dam his emotions once the flood began. "I couldn't protect you. Or Ahsoka and Rex. I could protect any of you and-and-and…" He sucked in a breath, reveling in the gentle strokes of Obi-Wan's hand against his back. " _And_ I should've been faster, should've prevented you and Rex from being sent away to Kadavo. I should have rescued you sooner. I should've been there to _save you._ "

"You're not invincible, Anakin," Obi-Wan finally replied, his tone dancing on the very edge of calm now. "None of us are."

"But I'm the _Chosen_ One! I should have—"

"The Chosen One isn't supposed to be magical. Nowhere in the prophecy does it say that the Chosen One is responsible for keeping his friends out of danger, or controlling every aspect of the Clone Wars in order to save his loved ones from potential harm."

Anakin silently cursed his lips for quivering. "But—"

"No buts, Anakin. I mean it. You can't save everyone. You have to let people make their own choices. Rex and I made our choice. _I_ made my choice…"

"No one chooses to become a slave, Obi-Wan."

Silence. No witty comeback or helpful lecture. Nothing.

_Nothing. Come on, Obi-Wan…_

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

"Would you just quit it already?" Anakin exclaimed, muffling his cry in Obi-Wan's shoulder. "It's not your fault! Do you hear? It's not—"

"It's not your fault, either, Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice was thick with uncharacteristic emotion. "None of it."

"But I—"

" _No,_ Anakin." When Obi-Wan pried himself out of Anakin's clutches, the younger felt an immense wave of loss wash over him. Though only a momentary feeling, it was still hard to shake. "Now, I believe our tea is ready…"

Drying his eyes, Anakin nodded, willingly compliant for once in his life. The conversation felt as though it had been cut short—there was still so much to say. But he didn't know how to get it back on track and he was too emotionally drained to even try.

As Obi-Wan prepared their cups, Anakin idled about the kitchen, trying to make himself useful and failing miserably.

"Grab the sugar, will you?" Obi-Wan asked, flashing a tight smile.

_Leave it to Obi-Wan to make you feel important._

Doing as he was told, Anakin snatched up the sugar jar and was about to take it to the table when the front door swished open.

And Obi-Wan _jumped_ at the unexpected sound. Anakin was at his side in seconds.

"You two look as though you've seen a ghost." Master Qui-Gon's voice was steady, soothing, yet Anakin could still feel Obi-Wan struggling to suppress his anxiety.

"Maybe we have…" he returned softly.

Qui-Gon simply hummed and Obi-Wan returned to his tea, pouring it with decreasingly trembling hands.

"Well," Qui-Gon continued after a few lingering moments of silence, "if you two aren't doing anything of importance—"

"We're not," Anakin helpfully interjected, earning an 'I was speaking' glare from the older Jedi Master. Thoroughly reprimanded, he pursed his lips.

"I have something I'd like to show you both."

"Is it—" Obi-Wan began, but Anakin, having learned nothing about interrupting, cut in.

"We'll be right there."

Ignoring the look Obi-Wan gave him, Anakin quickly grabbed a covered mug, filled it just over halfway with tea, and slapped on the lid. Then, he thrust it into his confused Master's hand.

"Here. Now you can have your tea _and_ go with Qui-Gon." _I'm way ahead of you, Master. There's no way out of this one._

Resigned, Obi-Wan followed Anakin out with a sigh.

Qui-Gon grinned.

And if Anakin knew Qui-Gon—and he sure hoped he did—there was some sort of healing waiting at the end of whatever he wanted them to see.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your incredible patience! I finally got my Obi-Inspiration back over the holidays and was able to finish this fanfic! There will be one more chapter after this with some Ani/Obi brotherly feels! So stayed tuned! But for now, enjoy Qui-Gon's POV! Thank you all!

They followed quietly at first, allowing Qui-Gon time to collect his thoughts and solidify them before they reached the main hangar bay. The Force around his two Padawan's felt off, unbalanced. _But I suppose that's to be expected._

Still, the feeling unsettled him. _It's not supposed to be this way. They never should have gone. I should have been there too…_

"Obi-Wan?" It was the touch of concern in Anakin's tone that had Qui-Gon spinning around to face the younger Jedi. "Come on, what's—"

His Padawan had his arms curled protectively around his chest, the near empty mug dangling haphazardly from his fingers. "You never said anything about leaving the Temple."

Anakin's face contorted. "What's so bad about leaving the Temple?"

"We're on leave for who-knows-how-long and I would prefer to spend that time here, thank you," Obi-Wan replied stiffly.

"If you don't leave, you won't get to see what Master Qui-Gon has to show us," Anakin argued.

"I'm all right with that."

"Oh, come _on_ , Obi-Wan!" The boy's exasperation was palpable.

"It's only…" And Qui-Gon noticed the way his apprentice was now looking at him, like he used to when he was a boy and pleaded silently for his Master to change his mind about whatever they were about to do. "It's very crowded out there…"

"You've never minded the crowds before," Anakin puzzled.

When Qui-Gon stepped toward Obi-Wan, his Padawan took a step back.

"Obi-Wan," he began, being careful to avoid any sudden movements—an unnecessary precaution, but one he felt the need to take nonetheless. "You must trust me. There will not be any crowds where we're going. I promise."

"It's Coruscant," Obi-Wan replied, voice tight, "how can you be so sure?"

"Trust me." And Obi-Wan knew to trust well this tone of voice, Qui-Gon had made certain of it with the passing of the years.

A lifetime seemed to pass as the wheels in Obi-Wan's head ground and spun, and Qui-Gon waited on pins and needles.

Over time, Qui-Gon had become proficient in deciphering the many faces of Obi-Wan Kenobi. And his Padawan's current expression subtly revealed his hesitation and reluctant desire to please.

Finally, Obi-Wan nodded. "All right." He took a small step forward. "I trust you."

Qui-Gon felt a smile tug his lips. "And that's all I ask of you."

Another nod, yet Obi-Wan didn't appear to be making any effort to join them.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin beckoned, and Qui-Gon thought he saw the boy's hand inching forward as if to forcibly pull his Master into the nearest speeder.

"Don't get your robes in a tangle, I'm coming," he huffed, though Qui-Gon noticed the way the cup trembled within his hand.

They wasted no time in finding a speeder—Qui-Gon having done all the deciding, knowing the boy would have wasted precious minutes in trying to choose a speeder he liked. In the end, it wasn't even Ankin who did the driving either. Qui-Gon took the controls, giving them all a nice, smooth ride through Galactic City.

Neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin talked very much at all, except for the occasional comment from Anakin about a particularly interesting building, followed by a light quip from Obi-Wan, whom Qui-Gon suspected was trying to distract himself from the fact that he didn't yet know where they were going.

_The surprise will be worth it when we arrive, young one._

When they pulled to a stop on the street corner in front of Dex's Diner, Obi-Wan let out a good-natured sigh.

"I should have known. But you promised there wouldn't be any large crowds. Or have you forgotten how busy the diner is around this time?"

"I haven't forgotten," Qui-Gon replied as he slid out of the speeder with ease. "And my promise hasn't been broken yet. You still have to trust me, Obi-Wan."

His former Padawan simply nodded before following Anakin out of the vehicle.

Upon entering the small building, Qui-Gon was pleased to find everything was arranged exactly how he'd envisioned it. The place was empty save for the waitress droids, Dexter Jetster himself, and a little Togruta Padawan who occupied their favorite corner booth.

"Masters!" She exclaimed from behind stack upon stack of freshly prepared cuisine. "You came!"

"What?" Qui-Gon said as he met her glowing gaze. "You didn't think we would make it?"

"No," Ahsoka replied, flushing only slightly, "I just didn't think they would be willing to follow you so blindly."

He didn't miss the face Anakin made at his student, nor the one she shot back in return. Honestly, sometimes those two were far too immature for their own good.

Qui-Gon ushered the two Jedi into the booth before they could protest, then slid onto the worn cushion beside Ahsoka.

"Well," Obi-Wan began, lightly fingering one of the glasses of jawa juice Ahsoka had ordered for all of them prior to their arrival, "I suppose you're very pleased with yourself right now."

Qui-Gon fought to keep his face straight, though he could feel the urge to grin rising with each passing second. "And why should I be feeling pleased, Padawan?"

As Anakin started sucking down his own drink—as well as a few of the appetizers presented—Qui-Gon noticed the way he subtly kept his gaze trained on Obi-Wan, who continued:

"Well, you got us here, didn't you? And as far as I can tell, there aren't any crowds pressing in on all sides."

"Did you think there would be?"

Obi-Wan glanced down at his drink. "I wasn't sure _what_ to think…"

And for a long moment, no one spoke. Each looked worn in their own way. Qui-Gon was no imbecile, and he certainly wasn't a dreamer either. He knew it would take more than a trip to Dex's to fix the three shattered hearts sitting before him.

Much more.

_But we have time._

_I have time to fix this…_

All it would take was a start… _Just a start._

"Well," Anakin said, breaking the silence at last, "are we gonna order some food?"

"What do you call all this?" Ahsoka asked, gesturing toward the plates of appetizers.

"I mean _real_ food. The main course. Come on, guys, I'm _starving_."

"Anakin, you're _not_ starving. Children on the—"

"Lower levels are starving. Yeah, yeah." The boy waved a dismissive hand. "Well, I'm _very_ hungry, then. There, happy?"

"Ecstatic."

"Good." And Obi-Wan passed Anakin a menu, which he poured over for exactly five seconds before handing it back to his Master.

Obi-Wan, in turn, passed off to Ahsoka without so much as a glance.

"Geez," the young Togruta piped up as she opened the menu, "you'd think you guys have been here a million times or something."

Anakin let out a snort before dividing his attention once again between Obi-Wan and his jawa juice.

"What can I say?" Anakin remarked between gulps. "I'm a creature of habit."

"Same," Obi-Wan mumbled, drawing Ahsoka's lips into a small smile.

And Qui-Gon smiled too. Because this was the casual banter he'd been hoping for. Things wouldn't be the same as they once were—not for awhile—but a tiny semblance of normalcy wouldn't hurt anything. It would help them forget, at least for a short time, about the horrors of Zygerria.

 _Zygerria…_ Qui-Gon thought, forcing his expression to remain steady. He was growing to hate that word more each time it crossed his mind. _They never should've gone on that mission. They never should've been_ _ **near**_ _there in the first place…_

By the time he was able to pull himself out of such heavy thoughts, Dex had already taken everyone's order but his own.

And Qui-Gon was grateful that his old friend wasn't making a fuss. He knew how much the Besalisk cared for them all and how difficult it was for him to tone down his boisterous personality.

When he'd called to reserve the entire diner, Qui-Gon had made it clear that they were expecting peace and quiet—that it would be best if Dex didn't pry into the sullen moods of the three Jedi, despite how badly he might feel the need to help.

 _Like always,_ he reflected fondly as he gave his order.

"So…" Qui-Gon glanced up from his own drink to find his Padawan's eyes locked on him. "Why Dex's?"

Qui-Gon offered a small shrug. "Why not Dex's?"

Obi-Wan flashed an unamused grin. "You know what I meant."

"I know," Qui-Gon said, eyes softening. "I know. For now, Obi-Wan, don't question—just _enjoy_."

As if on cue, Ahsoka pulled Anakin's worn sabacc deck from her belt pouch. "Ready to lose, Skyguy?"

"Against _you_?" Anakin scoffed, snatching up the deck and shuffling the cards with expert fingers. "Not likely. Now, losing against Qui-Gon? Well, I'm not looking forward to that."

"I don't _have_ to play," Qui-Gon chuckled, keeping his eyes on Obi-Wan, who didn't look as though he wished to play at all.

"Are you kidding?" Anakin began dealing, flicking a card in front of Qui-Gon first. "It's all or nothing."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Obi-Wan muttered, earning an eye roll from Anakin.

"How about this, Master, you can start us off."

"I was afraid you'd say that, too." Nevertheless, Obi-Wan gathered up his cards and studied them with all the intensity that Anakin had once used so long ago to study his history books.

The gameplay continued with a side of light banter until Dex personally brought them their food.

After that, silence consumed the table once more. Everyone was exhausted, but more than that, they were famished. While they were playing cards, it'd been easy to forget that not more than a few hours ago, Qui-Gon had applied bacta to Obi-Wan's scars… Soothed Anakin's worries and let him vent his cares away… Set Ahsoka's damaged heart on the road to healing.

_Stars… Was it only this morning that they arrived with Plo in the hangar?_

But now… Now, as he observed the way they all silently ravaged their plates, Qui-Gon found himself forgetting all about the poor children on the Lower Levels.

_Because Anakin was not exaggerating—_ _**my** _ _children truly are starving._

How many days had Mace mentioned went by since the Council lost contact with Obi-Wan and Anakin on Zygerria? _How many weeks, you mean…_

_Not days,_ _**weeks** _ _._

It wasn't long before Anakin had finished his own food and began picking at Obi-Wan's plate, which was still more full than Qui-Gon would've liked. Ahsoka was still chowing down on her sliders when Dex brought them all refills.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly—" Obi-Wan started, but Qui-Gon held up a silencing hand.

"You can, and you _will._ I've seen you eat three times that amount."

"Sure, when I was going through a growth spurt—as a _teenager_ ," Obi-Wan protested with a scoff.

Anakin didn't even try to hide his snicker.

"Well," Qui-Gon continued with a certain kind of smile that held no room for argument, "you had best consider going through another one because none of you are leaving this table until you've eaten your fill."

A chorus of three _yes, Master_ s echoed through Qui-Gon's ears, warming his heart.

_Yes. Yes, perhaps there will be healing after all._

_It simply takes one step._

_One step to get the journey started._

And as he studied each of his self-proclaimed Padawans, he realized that step had just been taken.

Now, they could all truly begin the road to recovery.


	9. Nine

"Well, I think she'll be way more comfortable in there than on that sad little couch."

Qui-Gon had to bite back a grin at the mock offense that played out on Obi-Wan's face.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I thought this was your very favorite couch in the entire galaxy."

"What? I never said that," Anakin scoffed, grinning as he plopped down on said couch beside his Master. "I mean, it's not really easy on the eyes."

"You just don't remember because you were in a… _fragile_ state of mind. Or need I remind you of the way you hugged it, got down on your knees and nearly propo—"

"Okay, okay!" And Anakin actually clamped a hand over Obi-Wan's mouth, which his Master instantly pushed away. "So, I'd had a few drinks that night, so what?"

"A _few_? Anakin you were—"

"A marvelous angel, like always. Thank you."

Qui-Gon couldn't hold back the quiet chuckle that brushed past his lips. Oh, how he'd missed this—and they hadn't even been back a full standard rotation yet.

"Well, all that to say, Ahsoka's passed out like a rock on my bed, so…" He looked hopefully at Obi-Wan.

"Anakin, you're _not_ stealing my bed again. And whatever gave you the impression that rocks sleep?"

"You know what I meant."

The corners of Obi-Wan's eyes crinkled, betraying his good nature. "I know. Don't worry, Anakin, you won't have to sleep on the couch tonight."

"Good. Now!" Clapping his hands together, Anakin fixed the two Masters with a sly expression, one Qui-Gon had come to fear. "Who's up for another round of sabacc?"

Qui-Gon's groan was underlined by Obi-Wan's.

"What? I thought you guys loved sabacc!"

"We _did_ ," Obi-Wan corrected. "That was before you drove it into the ground."

"Hey, I could easily go wake Ahsoka up and we could play—"

"Don't. You. _Dare_."

At Obi-Wan's stern look, Anakin backed down. "Fine, fine! Well, what _do_ you want to do?"

"Sleep?" Obi-Wan offered.

"Wait! Stop the presses!" Anakin exclaimed, grasping Obi-Wan's arm with one hand and gesturing to his fake audience with the other.

Qui-Gon didn't miss the slight flinch that jarred his Padawan's frame at the sudden touch. _Oh, Obi-Wan…_

"You've heard it here, folks! Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi actually _wants_ to sleep!"

Jerking away, Obi-Wan pretended to look affronted. "Whatever gave you the idea that I don't like sleep?"

Anakin shrugged, an impish grin claiming his lips. "Probably that same thing that gave me the idea about the rocks."

"Honestly, you're impossible."

"Thanks. That means so much coming from you."

"All right," Qui-Gon began, loath as he was to interrupt the playful banter. "Obi-Wan is right, I think you _both_ should get some sleep."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Anakin said with a yawn. "But, despite any love you claim I have for this couch, it's not the best nighttime companion."

"Well, why don't you go snuggle with Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan suggested dryly.

"On second thought, the couch is wonderful." Then, leaning closer to Qui-Gon, Anakin whispered, "She kicks."

Obi-Wan snorted. "And you don't?"

"Hey! That was when I was a kid! And I haven't exactly come crawling into your bed for comfort since I was like twelve."

"Fifteen at the latest."

"I did _not_."

"Oh, come now, Anakin, of course you did."

"Well, I don't anymore, okay?"

Heaving a sigh, Obi-Wan stood, albeit slowly. Painfully. "So, the couch it is, then?"

In answer, Anakin collapsed onto the couch, wincing as his bruised body sunk into the worn material.

Qui-Gon caught sight of the worried expression that flashed across Obi-Wan's face. But only for a second. Before Anakin had even turned his attention back to the Masters, the auburn Jedi's face had gone neutral once again.

"Feeling old yet?" Obi-Wan quipped, lips quirking.

"Not on your life, old man."

At the sound of Qui-Gon's throat clearing, the two young Jedi whipped their heads around. "As humorous as it is to stand here and watch you debate your oh-so-ancient ages, might I remind you that you were both headed off to bed?"

"Right," Obi-Wan said, cheeks flushing slightly. "Well,"—And Qui-Gon knew this part of the scene by heart: the part in which his former Padawan tried to convince him they would all be just fine that evening by themselves—"I'm sure you're tired as well, Master."

"And let me guess," Qui-Gon broke in with a knowing look, "you don't need me to stay with either of you overnight?"

"We're not children anymore," came the soft reply.

_Really? Were you not just acting like Younglings not two minutes ago?_

"Of course not." Qui-Gon studied his Padawan's hard for a moment. "You're sure you'll be all right?"

"We'll call you if we need anything," Anakin said seriously before Obi-Wan could even open his mouth.

"Good. I'm holding you to that."

"Hey, you can trust me." But even as he said it, Anakin shot a slightly concerned glance at Obi-Wan.

"I know." _I know._

It wasn't until Obi-Wan gave a small nod that Qui-Gon felt at peace about leaving them. Well, _more_ at peace than he had before. Which wasn't saying much.

Even before he was out the door, he heard the banter start up again at full force.

"Of course I know that rocks don't sleep, Master. It's just an expression!"

"Is it? It sounds to me like something you just thought up on the spot."

"If I was gonna think up something like that, it'd sound a lot more clever. I mean, whoever heard of a sleeping rock?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Master, come _on_ …"

Chuckling, Qui-Gon forced himself to keep walking. How desperately he wanted to go back there, to wrap them in his arms and never let go.

_But they need space. Space and time. Time to heal._

And they were both just a comm call away. _Or perhaps I'll sense something's wrong before they can even pick up their comlinks._

However, this was negative thinking, and Qui-Gon had determined to view this entire situation in a positive light. _They will get better._

_They_ _**will** _ _._

Still, the lonely walk to his own quarters felt very wrong. As if he would be making the return journey again—and very soon.

_Force forbid._

* * *

_"The Order is weak and we will help_ _**break** _ _it…"_

_No…_

_The wicked curl of her lips was one he was sure he would never forget._

_No…_

_"Teach this Jedi his place."_

_It wasn't a suggestion—it was a command._

_His feet had transformed to pure durasteel by the time he reached the arena._

_He clutched the whip tightly in his hand, willing it to break in half. The brute force only seemed to make it grow larger._

_No…_

_"Prove to me you are a slaver! Swing that whip or die beside him!"_

_Those are some lousy options…_

_But he had to, he could hear Obi-Wan hissing at him, ordering him to do it, to swing the whip. Because if he didn't, they were all in trouble._

_It would be his inaction that would endanger them all._

_But he couldn't—he_ _**wouldn't** _ _._

_No…!_

_"Whip the Jedi!"_

_"Whip him!"_

" _Swing that whip!"_

_"Do it!"_

_No!_

_Don't you all understand?_

_I can't!_

_I_ _**won't** _ _!_

_"Swing that whip or_ _**die** _ _…"_

_Or die._

_Then I'm a dead man walking._

_Because I won't_ …

_And yet, he felt his arm fly back behind his head._

_No…_

_Felt the horror as it swung back down._

_No…_

_Heard the sharp_ _**crack** _ _of electrowhip against flesh._

_No!_

_And where Obi-Wan had once hissed at him to do it, to keep their cover intact because the very heart of the mission depended on it, he was now screaming at him—begging him—to_ _**stop** _ _. Stop!_

_And yet, he couldn't. Try as he might, his arm continued to swing, and with it, the whip._

_Harder._

_Faster._

_No!_

_Stop it!_

_You can't…_

_Once a slaver, now the slaver master. Isn't that how life goes?_

_The hunted becomes the hunter?_

_No, stop!_

_This isn't me!_

_It's not—_

_It's_ _**always** _ _been you!_

_Always! And it_ _**will** _ _be you! You're no better than the filthy slavers who—_

_No!_

" _Stop_ it!"

Gasping for air, Anakin shot up and promptly lost his balance, tumbling off the couch in a tangle of arms and blankets.

_No…_

It took several moments of squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again for the young Jedi Knight to realize it was all only a dream.

_Just a dream… It was just a…_

_Just a_ _**nightmare** _ _._

He shuddered, then listened.

Nothing.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He hadn't woken anyone. _Ahsoka needs to sleep._

_So do you,_ he could almost hear his Master scold.

_Right._

With shaky arms, Anakin pushed himself off the ground, and with wobbly legs, he made the short trek to the kitchen.

A late night snack would help calm his nerves. Only, everything he laid eyes on only made his stomach churn with a nausea he couldn't shake.

_Stang._

_All right, don't panic. You've had nightmares before and you've been fine._

_How have I been fine? What did I do to make it better?_

Vaped if he knew.

_Anyway._ Anyway…

For a long minute, Anakin just stood there, his eyes flicking between the fridge, the couch, and Obi-Wan's door.

_Obi-Wan…_

_"Anakin!"_

He squeezed his eyes shut again. _No._

_"Anakin! Stop! Stop, this isn't you!"_

_Stop…_

_"Anakin! Please!"_

_No!_

His feet were guiding him into Obi-Wan's room before he could even finish chasing the last vestiges of the nightmare from his mind.

_No!_

_"Anakin!"_

_Stop!_

The familiar feel of slipping beneath his former Master's covers had an instant calming effect and Anakin couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan's voice sounded far too clear for someone who was supposed to have been sleeping for three hours, at _least_. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah…" Anakin pulled the blankets closer to his chin. "Yeah, of course. What makes you think I'm not?"

Obi-Wan turned fully on his side, giving Anakin all his attention, as well as a knowing look. "Well, you _are_ in my bed. I thought you'd grown out of that, or so you've said."

"Yeah," Anakin whispered, mentally cursing the way his voice shook. "I thought so too."

At this confession, Obi-Wan's eyes visibly softened. "Anakin?"

"It was…" Anakin ran a hand over his weary face. "It was just a nightmare."

"Oh." Obi-Wan shifted, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"All right," Obi-Wan whispered. "Well, if you change your mind, I'm always here."

"I know."

_I know._

And he so badly wanted to talk to Obi-Wan, to tell him everything. To vent about his dream, about that kriffing mission.

To just _talk._

But his tongue felt like durasteel and he didn't trust his lips to form the right words.

"I just—" And as he'd expected, the words caught in his throat, nearly choking him. "I can't—" Anakin swallowed. "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry. It all went so wrong and I couldn't… I didn't know how to stop it."

"Oh, Anakin…"

"I broke my cover and doomed us all, but I couldn't—" The sound of his choked sob was muffled by the fistful of blankets he'd pressed tightly to his lips. _I couldn't swing that whip, Master._

_I couldn't…_

"You did what you had to do," Obi-Wan softly pressed, his voice the essence of calm.

"Did I? Did I really, Obi-Wan? Because the last time I checked, things could've gone a lot better back there! I broke cover and jeopardized the mission. I put everyone in danger all because I—" Anakin sucked in breath and lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Because I couldn't hurt you… And now you're hurting with a pain greater than that of any whip."

"Anakin…" And he could've sworn Obi-Wan's voice was shaking too. "You never would've been put in such a compromising position had I not… Well, had I not gotten myself captured."

Anakin started at this, looking at his old Master in a new light.

"I thought I could rescue Governor Roshti," Obi-Wan continued. "You should've seen him… He was—I couldn't leave him there. Someone spotted us. And I wasn't holding on… Blast, why wasn't I holding on? Well, you know what happened after that."

"Yeah," Anakin mumbled, suddenly finding the ceiling very interesting. "I guess we both messed up, didn't we?"

"True," Obi-Wan admitted, "but we also rescued the colonists. We came out victorious in the end, and while it might not feel like we did yet, it will. It will if we give it time."

"Do you really believe that?"

A beat.

Anakin held his breath.

"No," Obi-Wan replied, his voice so quiet, Anakin could barely hear him.

It wasn't the answer he'd been expecting, but it was the one he needed.

Because Obi-Wan was being vulnerable—a very rare occurrence reserved only for the most devastating of times.

_Well, if this Zygerrian mission wasn't devastating, I don't know_ _**what** _ _is._

And yet, he could think of a handful of horrific ordeals he'd been through personally that trumped everything the Zygerrians had thrown at them.

_Still…_

Anakin waited on baited breath for his friend to continue, but was met with silence alone.

"Obi-Wan…?"

"No, Anakin," Obi-Wan repeated, his voice unusually hoarse. "I don't believe it. Not yet, anyway. But I will. I promise you, _we_ will…"

"Yeah?"

Obi-Wan just nodded.

"When?" Anakin croaked.

His brother shrugged ever-so-slightly. "When I grow more accustomed to the idea, I suppose."

Now, it was Anakin's turn to nod. _Right. And how long will_ _ **that**_ _take?_

"As long as it takes, my _very_ young Padawan," Obi-Wan replied softly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Anakin rolled his eyes, but he was beyond grateful for Obi-Wan's attempt at friendly banter, poor as it had been.

"All right." Anakin sighed and curled closer to his Master, closer to comfort. "'As long as it takes,' it is, then."

With a small sigh of his own, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, but Anakin knew the Jedi Master wouldn't fall asleep for awhile.

_Not until he's certain I'm asleep._

Anakin smirked. _Just like old times…_

Only, he wasn't twelve anymore—or fifteen, as Obi-Wan insisted.

And yet, he found he still needed the comfort of his Master, the calm reassurance Obi-Wan never failed to provide.

_Even when he's hurting, too._

_Well, two can play at that game, Master._

With the subtlest of movements, Anakin slipped his hand into Obi-Wan's and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze.

_I'm not going anywhere, Master. Not until we've beaten this._

_Not until victory is truly won._

_I promise…_ And he watched as Obi-Wan's features slowly relaxed at the gentle touch. _I'll always be here for you._

_I promise._

As he closed his own eyes, Anakin found sleep before it could find him. And this time, there were no nightmares.

However, he did recall catching a glimpse of Master Qui-Gon hovering just beyond the doorway. But to this day, Anakin still can't be sure if that picture came from his dreams or had been his reality.

He liked to believe it was his reality.

Because no matter what happened, they would always have someone watching over them.

Someone to save them.

And they _would_ heal from this.

_I promise, Master._

_We're not alone._

_I promise…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this story to come to a close! Especially during that long hiatus I hadn't expected myself to take! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed and if there are any other Clone Wars arcs into which you'd like to see me insert Qui-Gon, just drop your ideas in the comments! Thanks again, dear readers! I hope to hear from you soon!


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